


Global Yentas Project

by forochel



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: 5 Things, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Domestic Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung | Jr., Fluff, Food Porn, Future, M/M, Past, Slice of Life, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: 5 times some random person overseas tried yenta-ing JJP + 1 time they didn't need any yenta-ing at all(eta: I have been advised that yentas are not the cross-fandom concept I thought they were. so the alternative summary --5 times some random person overseas thought JJP were a couple and had to be corrected + 1 time the reverse happens)





	Global Yentas Project

**Author's Note:**

> so I've been having a shit ... time of it & this just spilt forth because what is fandom for, if not escapism! the theme songs for this are [Q](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yy-wctg6_3g) because it's unbearably cute, and dame kiri te kanawa's rendition of [cheek to cheek](https://youtu.be/fxXKcqtAz84) because ... it's happy-making.
> 
> thanks to bysine for all your encouraging comments as usual and subsequence for cheerleading too!

* * *

**(i)  
**

It was swelteringly hot, the sun beating down on their heads and shoulders, the air sticky on their skin.

Stopping at a fruit stall in the market that they were wending their way through was a welcome relief. Bambam stayed behind to translate for Jinyoung and him, the other four forging on ahead with their tour translator to look for the rolled ice cream that was supposed to be somewhere nearby.

“Thanks for helping us, Bam-ah,” Jinyoung said, after a protracted period of agonising about which fruits to choose before Jaebeom had sighed, rolled his eyes, and told him to just get the mango. Because that _was_ what Jinyoung would have chosen anyway.

And now Jinyoungie was in a huff with him. Jaebeom sighed, arms crossed as he watched Bambam banter with the extremely loquacious fruit hawker.

"He told me to tell you guys to be careful," Bambam relayed, after they’d all collected their snacks. He sounded a weird blend of panicked amusement. "That us Thais are pretty liberal but you never know who's watching."

"Uh," said Jaebeom dumbly. What the hell was Bambam talking about? He looked at Jinyoung.

Jinyoung was looking coolly at Bambam through his sunglasses. It was all about the set of his mouth and the way his faced had smoothed over like a mask. No help there, then.

"O...kay?" Jaebeom tried. He bounced the baby coconut in his hands lightly. "Thank ... him ... for his advice, I guess?"

Bambam laughed, glancing at Jinyoung, who'd remained silent throughout, mouth in a neutral line, before turning back to the friendly fruit hawker.

"Hyung," said Jinyoung quietly. "Do you really ..."

Looking up from where he had been inhaling sweet, fresh coconut water, Jaebeom made an incoherent sound that approximated to, “Yes, what?”

Jinyoung sighed and speared a mango slice with his skewer, speeding up to catch up with the rest of their group. “Never mind.”

“Hyung,” Bambam said, keeping apace with Jaebeom. Most suspicious. “You really need to open your eyes.”

Contrarily, Jaebeom narrowed his eyes at Bambam.

Putting his hands up, Bambam said, “I’m just saying!!” even though Jaebeom had less than zero idea of what exactly he was saying, and skipped off ahead, leaving Jaebeom alone with his coconut and his confusion.

*

  
**(ii)  
**

"Do you want to share, Jinyoungie?" Jaebeom asked. Jinyoung was being strict about his diet, even though they were jumping time zones like -- like some kind of scifi antihero, and dancing their asses off every other day. This was the most efficient way to try more flavours while being kind of good about dieting.

"Mm," Jinyoung hummed his agreement, eyes still taking in the flavours on display. "What do you want, hyung? They have a hazelnut flavour."

Jaebeom did a quick scan and made some educated guesses, before pointing to the pink, mottled one. "I want to try their strawberry."

"I should've guessed," Jinyoung laughed, before turning to the server hovering behind the case. "Can we try? This strawberry, and that hazelnut. And the pistachio chocolate, please. Thank you."

"What's that? The last one you said?" Jaebeom asked.

Jinyoung pointed it out and tried not to laugh again when Jaebeom eyed the murky green gelato with great suspicion.

Their server had no such compunctions, though.

"Cute," he chuckled while handing over the samples. "Where are you guys visiting from?"

Jaebeom perked up around his spoon of strawberry gelato, obviously happy to have understood. "Korea," he answered while Jinyoung was still letting the nutty perfection of that pistachio melt on his tongue. "We are having ... concert."

"Oh!" The server's eyebrows went up. "Cool. So, like, k-pop?"

"Yes," Jinyoung cut in, before turning to Jaebeom. "I think I like this one more. Hyung, do you want to try?"

"..." Jaebeom looked at the remaining mound of green balanced on the spoon. "Nyoungie ..."

"You wanted to share," pouted Jinyoung. "And I really like this."

Reluctantly, Jaebeom said, “Fine,” and opened his mouth.

Forgetting momentarily about their audience, and the manager loitering in a corner on her phone, Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “This hyung,” he sighed, feeding him, “seriously.”

Jaebeom looked a lot like a puppy as he very cautiously licked the rest of the gelato off the spoon, eyebrows drawn together and a look of great hesitation on his face. He’d subconsciously cocked his head to one side as he let the taste of the pistachio gelato sink in.

“Well?” asked Jinyoung, discarding the spoon and — catching the server’s eye, trying not to blush.

“Okay,” Jaebeom pronounced, licking his lips. “I like it. It’s interesting. And the chocolate chunks.”

“Hyung,” Jinyoung told him, sounding overly fond even to his own ears, “you are a child.”

They settled for a double scoop of strawberry and the pistachio chocolate, and got an iced chocolate to go for their actual grown child.

“For Yugyeomie?” Manager-noona asked, looking up from her phone.

“Yeah,” Jaebeom said, juggling the cup from hand to hand. “The sugar high isn’t going to be worth it, but Jinyoungie ordered it...”

Jinyoung glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of his name. “The favour he owes us will be worth it.”

The server was grinning at him when he turned back to collect his change. “You guys are really cute together. Break a leg at your concert!”

So disconcerted was Jinyoung by the concept of _breaking his legs_ being evidently some kind of well-wish in English that they’re only halfway back to the hotel when he realised what else that server had said and almost tripped over a crack in the pavement.

Jaebeom caught him with an arm across his chest, steadying their ice cream with his other hand. “You okay, Jinyoungie?”

“Y-yeah,” Jinyoung stuttered, and took a big bite of their rapidly melting ice cream. Strawberry and pistachio didn’t taste awful together. “I — yeah.”

*

**(iii)  
**

They were both standing back and trying to take in the whole of Michelangelo’s _Rebellious Slave_ when Jinyoung heard, in the piercingly nasal tones of the typical American tourist, from somewhere over his shoulder: "Why is it always the hot ones?"

"Which one are you talking about?"

"Obviously the one in the shirt and dad sandals."

"I mean, the other one's also pretty cute. Look at those shoulders."

"I guess," said the first voice reluctantly. "He's got that 90s teenage dirtbag thing going."

"Maybe dad sandals is his sugar daddy."

Jinyoung, having by now figured out that these two unpinpointable voices were talking about him and Jaebeom, tried not to react too obviously. Jaebeom gave him a sidelong look of concern.

"They're a walking cliche," sighed the first voice. "And also like some kind of social realism piece: two gays standing in front of a classical sculpture of a rebellious twink slave."

The second voice laughed. "Hey, make that your next studio piece. You can say you got your inspiration in the Louvre."

"I wish I'd get inspiration in L'Orangerie instead, this place is ..." their voices faded away into the hushed hubbub of the gallery, leaving Jinyoung feeling like ants were crawling all over his skin.

He never thought anything could make him regret improving his English and suffering through Mark and Jackson talking to him solely in slang-y, non-textbook English, but, well.

“Jinyoung-ah.” Jaebeom’s hand on the crook of his elbow almost made him jump. “Are you all right? You zoned out there.”

“I’m fine,” he said, patting Jaebeom’s hand automatically. Jinyoung tried to put the conversation he’d overheard out of his mind to focus on the masterpiece in front of him instead. It didn’t work out too well, not with the languorous, sensual defiance carved into every line of the sculpture.

Jaebeom made a sceptical sound, but drew him closer to look at the details, using his breadth to get them to the front of the mini-crowd. “Look at the folds in the cloth, Jinyoungie! Can you believe that’s marble?”

“Well, “ Jinyoung said, though his breath too was a little taken away by how softly the marble seemed to fold. His eyes were caught, though, more by the petulant crook of the statue’s fingers, the way they lightly rucked up that shirt and curled into the divot between the slave boy’s ribs. “Yes, because the plaque thing there says so.”

He laughed at the way Jaebeom’s face seized up at him, and then his own _heart_ seized when that cute squinch broke into laughter as well.

Gods, Jinyoung thought despairingly, there was just no winning.

*

**(iv)  
**

"And a strawberry latte for your boyfriend," the barista with an impressively twirly moustache said cheerfully, sliding the cup across to Jinyoung.

Jinyoung blinked.

"Very cute," Twirly Moustache said helpfully. "I'm quite partial to the strawberry syrup here, myself. We boil it down ourselves, you know. Or, well, I suppose it’s our co-owner who does, to be quite honest."

Picking the mug up, Jinyoung prayed very hard that there weren't any hidden ahgase around. Or worse yet: Dispatch hiding behind the decorative ferns right outside the window next to the counter.

"I, um, I will let him know," Jinyoung said. "Strawberry is my friend’s favourite. Thank you."

Twirly Moustache raised equally well-groomed eyebrows at him. Jinyoung should honestly ask for tips. “Is that so? Well, I think your ‘friend’ is wondering where his drink is.” Jinyoung didn’t quite know what to do with his face; the quotation marks the barista basically enunciated around ‘friend’ were clear as day.

Jaebeom came up behind Jinyoung’s shoulder then, bumping into him with their customary negligence of personal space.

“Oh, pretty,” he said in English, reaching out to take his mug from Jinyoung. The latte art _was_ pretty, a cat swirled into the foam in white and pink. And then, distracted by the cake display — “Ah, cake!”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung sighed. They’d stolen away from their hotel, with a free half-day before their flight to New York, and had wandered into this cafe for a snack after touring the British Library. It was in the basement of one of the many bed-and-breakfasts on this particular street. The black and white tiling of the landing at the top of the stairs had caught Jaebeom’s eye, initially, and then they’d realised it led down to a cafe. With very attractive cakes.

It had looked warm inside, and turned out to be just as cosy as they’d thought. Full of university students already plugged into their laptops, at colourful wooden tables crammed into every possible nook and cranny. No one had looked up at their entrance, and the Asian-looking group of girls tucked away in one corner of the front room had glanced up at them with reassuringly little recognition when they shuffled past.

“We do indeed have cake!” said Twirly Moustache cheerfully. “All sorts — what do you lads fancy?”

Jinyoung blinked at him, processing. His accent was faintly lilty, and sounded like a song; so different from everyone Jinyoung had ever learnt English from. The words he used were different too. English was such a complicated language.

“I fancy strawberry,” Jaebeom was saying already, having clearly latched onto just the last word Twirly Moustache said and made the logical leap.

“Well, we've got just the cake for you! And yourself, sir?”

Feeling rather overwhelmed, Jinyoung looked at the display of cakes on the wooden board in front of the window, squinted at the hand-chalked signs pegged along its edge.

“Um,” he said, and pointed at the most interesting-looking square. “This ... lemongrass?”

“Oh, you ought to have the —,” someone said behind him, her last few words completely incomprehensible. When Jinyoung turned around he had to look down, and saw one of the Asian girls from the corner standing behind him, looking rather severe in her kohled eyes, short wavy bob and a black trenchcoat.

“The ... what?” he said.

“This one,” Twirly Moustache said, pointing at the last chocolate croissant on the sideboard. The tiny little blackboard sign in front of it spelt out PAIN AU CHOCOLAT. “It is very good. Very chocolatey.”

“Looks like a pig,” supplied their mysterious recommendor. “You can have it; I’ve had it loads. Had one just this morning, in fact.”

“Try it,” Jaebeom urged in Korean. “Come on, Jinyoungie.”

“All right, all right,”Jinyoung acquiesced. Switching back into English, he pointed at the pain au chocolat. “Um, the ... this one and whatever you have for my friend, please.”

Twirly Moustache retrieved an enormous slice of cake: two pale yellow layers of sponge sandwiching cream and sliced strawberries, dusted with sugar and topped with even more strawberries.

“What is it?” asked Jaebeom in English, before exclaiming, “Oh! Strawberry! What is this called?”

Twirly Moustache laughed; Jinyoung couldn’t help but laugh too, at the look of delight on Jaebeom’s face.

“It’s a Victoria Sponge,” said Twirly Moustache, whose name Jinyoung was too embarrassed to ask after now. “For Queen Victoria, you know?”

They did not, in fact, know.

“Oh well, that’s all right,” said the girl waiting behind them. “The empire’s such an embarrassment anyway.”

It was as they were bearing their coffees and treats away to the backroom, where Twirly Moustache had assured them there would be more seating, that Jinyoung heard the girl say to Twirly Moustache, “_My friend_?” in the world’s most cuttingly incredulous tones.

*

**(v)  
**

“What polite boys,” said the obaachan who’d just sold them oden. Steam billowed in white curtains from her vats of broth. It was bitterly cold this far north, in Sapporo.

“Ah,” Jinyoung said, bowing a little. “Thank you.”

Oden Obaachan’s entire leathery face crinkled up in a joyful smile then; it was impossible not to smile in return.

Then her eyes skipped over next to Jinyoung, where Jaebeom was already sipping at the dark, savoury broth. “You eat well, too.”

When Jinyoung turned to look at Jaebeom, he found Jaebeom’s gaze already trained on him, smiling around a mouthful of chikuwa.

“Hyung,” said he, “gross.”

Jaebeom chewed at him, eyes curving into mischievous crescents, before washing his mouthful of masticated fishcake down with more broth. “You should try it while it’s still hot, Nyoung-ah.”

“The halmeoni complimented you,” Jinyoung told him, taking the wide, squat paper cup from Jaebeom. “She said you eat well.”

“Oh!” Jaebeom turned his smile to Oden Obaachan. It was like the world’s most powerful vortex of smiles, right there and then over the oden vats, intensifying when Jaebeom switched to Japanese. “Thank you, it’s delicious. Really really tasty.”

And it really was, Jinyoung thought, as he bit into the cabbage roll, filled with ground tofu and minced pork, entirely soaked through with the deep, flavourful broth.

It was also fucking piping hot.

He yelped and let the rest of the cabbage roll drop unglamourously back into the broth, swallowing quickly before sucking in cold air to soothe his mouth.

“Jinyoung-ah!” Jaebeom’s attention switched to him. He started patting Jinyoung on the back, even though Jinyoung wasn’t coughing; he just had a singed lining to his mouth, that was all. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Burnt my tongue,” Jinyoung said succinctly. He wished he’d brought a water bottle out with him.

“Yah, didn’t you see the steam?” asked Jaebeom without rancour, before spinning around. “Okay, wait here, I’ll go get you some milk.”

He charged off to the Family Mart next to the oden stall, slipping a little over the icy pavement, before Jinyoung could point out that the oden was hot, not spicy.

Oden Obaachan was chuckling fondly at his back, before looking at Jinyoung. Her eyes were black and piercing in her round, wrinkled face. “Was it too hot?”

“Ah, yeah.” Jinyoung sheepishly fanned his mouth. “Too hot. My tongue hurts.”

She clicked her tongue. “Careful, careful. Your boyfriend takes good care of you.”

This time, Jinyoung told himself to lean into the misunderstanding.

“Yeah.” He smiled up at her, making sure his eyes crinkled. “Yeah, he does.”

*

**+1  
**

“It hasn’t changed much,” Jinyoung said wonderingly, looking at the station flashing past as the subway peeled away. “At all.”

“It’s still smelly,” Jaebeom said, and tucked Jinyoung closer into himself. The subway was incredibly crowded. Their fault for trying to venture further afield during rush hour, probably.

Jinyoung laughed into his neck, pressed a hidden kiss there. “I can’t believe you’ve been through army and out and are still so ...”

“We’ve been through this before, Jinyoungie,” said Jaebeom flatly.

“All right, all right,” Jinyoung acquiesced, smiling all the while. “How many more stops is it?”

Jaebeom let go of Jinyoung to slide his phone out of his pocket. “A lot more. Almost to the end of the line.”

“Mmm,” Jinyoung hummed, and made a face as someone’s backpack crushed him against Jaebeom’s chest. “I hope it isn’t like this all the way there.”

“I hope the food is as good as Bam Bam claimed,” Jaebeom said darkly, reaching around to try and push the backpack away. Jinyoung wasn’t exactly as skinny as he’d been when they were twenty. The combined pressure of him plus the massive backpack, pushing Jaebeom into the divider he’d staked out a space against, wasn’t comfortable. “Or I’m going to kill him.”

“Remember that gold-flake chicken thing?” Jinyoung laughed. “God, that was ridiculous.”

“It was all right,” Jaebeom allowed, and exhaled in relief as the owner of the backpack finally managed to manouevre it off their back and onto the ground, releasing Jinyoung too. “I mean, I remember it was tasty. But —”

“You’ve had better delivery?”

Jaebeom chuckled. “Yeah. Bambam was so upset when I told him later.”

“That’s because he knew you were right.”

The train pulled into the next station. It must’ve been a big interchange; the carriage emptied out with a whoosh, fewer people replacing the masses that had been disgorged.

They were about to take two adjacent seats that’d unexpectedly freed up when a pair of old ladies, white hair in buns and shrunken with age, tottered on board.

“Ah,” Jinyoung said, a restraining hand on Jaebeom’s elbow. “Hyung, let them —”

Jaebeom turned, a question on his lips, then spotted them. “Oh, right, um.”

They shuffled aside, gesturing to the seats.

“Oh, so kind of you,” said the old lady in the pink cardigan. “Thank you.”

“Clearly not from New York,” said her friend, who had a brown jacket on. “Where are you visiting from?”

“Korea,” answered Jinyoung, and swayed a little as the train juddered off to the next station. Jaebeom steadied him with a hand on his hip, sliding it round to pat him reassuringly on the back when Jinyoung regained his balance and smiled at him in thanks.

"You guys look so close," Pink Cardigan cooed, catching Jaebeom’s eyes.

They smiled politely at her. Jaebeom unconsciously tightened his grip on Jinyoung's lower back. This kind of comment was ... not new, not at all, no. But travelling by themselves, consciously _together_, overseas in some hopeful veil of anonymity was.

"It's just so nice, you know," she continued, "to see young men these days be comfortable with each other."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that they weren't that young anymore, being solidly in their mid-thirties. Jinyoung pinched his thigh on the side. He bit back a yelp and shot Jinyoung a look.

The cross look Jinyoung volleyed back said it all: we are but ducklings to this old woman who is probably older than our halmeonis.

“Are you brothers?”

Jaebeom was honestly, completely blindsided. “N-no!” He started stuttering, fumbling for the right words. “We - ah, we —”

“Oh my god,” said Brown Jacket. “Barb. They’re _together_.”

The blush rose to his cheeks so quickly Jaebeom felt almost lightheaded with it.

Jinyoung was suppressing laughter; Jaebeom could feel it in the way that he was quivering under his fingertips.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ethel, just because two good-looking young men are close doesn’t mean —”

“Actually,” Jinyoung interjected, just as Barb’s voice was rising to embarrassingly loud levels. Jaebeom looked at him gratefully. His eyes were glimmering with mirth, but somehow he managed to keep a straight face as he leaned into Jaebeom and continued, “We are.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! also hey if there are any londoners out there - can you recognise the cafe? 
> 
> ***
> 
> **[ETA]**chatfic!OMAKE:
> 
> subsequence: DID MARK TEACH HIM WHAT TWINK MEANS  
me: yes. mark had diagrams  
"this is a twink, jinyoungie. that was you before you started exercisig so much."  
"this is a bear. it is not any of us."  
"this is an otter."  
jinyoung: no, youngjae is an otter.  
mark closes his eyes theatrically and presses his flipchart to his face  
jackson's just sat next to jinyoung with eager, shining eyes. he, too, is learning things!  
bambam wanders in, looks at the flipchart, almost asphyxiates laughing, and rolls back out  
the last sheet is obviously the twunk  
"and this," mark declares, grinning toothily, "is YOU."  
"oh my god," jackson whispers in that overwhelmed dramatic way he gets. "jinyoungie, it is you."
> 
> & also:
> 
> me: man i just love the idea of bambam rolling around behind this presentation  
as mark is very enthusiastically explaining gay stereotypes  
jinyoung turning around slowly to pin him with a glare  
"so bambam ... is a twink"  
bambam: HELL YEAH I AM  
exeunt, stage left, chased by a <s>bear</s> twunk
> 
> ***
> 
> ANYWAY. if you enjoyed this at all, please hit that kudos button, [RT](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1161820816117555200), and let me know what you think in the comments! <3


End file.
